


Please Don’t Be My Valentine

by phoenix_writing



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Harry Potter Epilogue What Epilogue | EWE, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-21
Updated: 2019-12-21
Packaged: 2021-02-26 05:54:52
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21878485
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phoenix_writing/pseuds/phoenix_writing
Summary: Harry hates Valentine's Day; Draco has a solution.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Harry Potter
Comments: 5
Kudos: 127





	Please Don’t Be My Valentine

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this in a hurry, so it’s not really edited. The story occurs six or seven years after DH but does not include the epilogue. (Maybe it was a dream!) I’ve not read/seen Cursed Child, so that also didn’t happen for the purposes of this story. Contains a slash pairing, so if that’s not your cup of tea, please move on.

February 14th was, hands down, Auror Harry Potter’s least favourite day of the year. He couldn’t help having defeated Voldemort, and he couldn’t control the fact that a lot of people seemed to find him handsome as well as heroic, but most of the time, he could avoid it. On Valentine’s Day, though? On Valentine’s Day, whatever was left of the collective intelligence of the wizarding population clearly went out the window. On Valentine’s Day, people seemed to think that any type of behaviour was acceptable as long as it related in some way to some weird, tenuous definition of “romance” which seemed to include a whole lot of hogwash.

Proposing to someone you didn’t know? Not romance! Sending nude photos to a stranger? The same. The _Prophet_ ’s unholy obsession with him? Totally unacceptable!

Because everyone who was not Harry thought it was funny, Harry wasn’t allowed to take the day off. He wasn’t even allowed to take a surveillance job in the middle of nowhere. No, Harry had to sit at the office, because then everyone else could have a laugh at his expense. Because the “You don’t mind working, you’re still single” was super hilarious for the fourth year running.

Harry might be single but no one, _no one_ wanted to receive a Howler, never mind one that shouted out lewd and sometimes rather graphic offers to the recipient. Seriously. It was enough to drive anyone round the twist, really it was. Harry tried to take it in good humour, he did. He tried to think about what it would feel like if this were happening to some other poor bloke instead of him, but … his imagination failed him. Sure, every auror got a letter or two from a grateful citizen that expressed their gratitude in a very … warm manner. It made up for the times that they got scathing letters or serious howlers, often undeserved. It wasn’t like Harry didn’t understand that no one took all this seriously, and that was part of why it was such good fun for the lot of them. But no one but him got such a sheer volume of letters, and no one but him had to put up with this unremitting farce all the time but especially _every bloody Valentine’s Day_.

Maybe it was funny if it was someone else’s life, but Harry had lost that perspective, because it was always _his_ life.

He’d finally managed to slip away to the loo for a few minutes because it was against regulations to tie someone to their desk simply because it afforded everyone else amusement. He got in a few deep breaths but then his solitude was shattered when the door opened and the world’s most obnoxious blond strolled in. Harry glared.

One of Draco’s pale eyebrows rose. “Get up on the wrong side of the bed this morning, Potter?”

“I just want two minutes alone, Malfoy. Two. With no snide comments or indecent proposals.”

The other eyebrow rose. “I wouldn’t have thought you’d have chosen a toilet for a proposal of any sort, but if your heart is set on it, Potter, by all means, proceed.”

Draco waved magnanimously, and Harry felt a reluctant smile tug at the corner of his mouth.

“Tosser.”

“Come on,” Draco said. “You can’t actually hide in the loo forever. It’s undignified.”

Harry was pretty sure he wasn’t nearly as concerned about his dignity as Draco was. He frowned.

Draco looked supercilious and amused. “I’ll even get you a coffee.”

Harry sighed and allowed himself to be cajoled back to the office, since it now did seem a bit as though he were hiding in the bathroom.

It had been surprisingly easy, working with Draco. When they’d started, Harry had thought it was a disaster waiting to happen, but Draco had been determined to prove himself, and it turned out that when they were on the same side, they actually made a pretty good team. And while Harry still hadn’t been quite sure what he thought of the youngest Malfoy, he had been well aware that most of the department would take their tone from him, so he had tried his best to always give Draco the benefit of the doubt. Somewhat to his surprise, ever since Voldemort had been defeated, it had always seemed to be deserved.

True to his word, Draco swung by the break room and retrieved a mug of coffee for Harry, and Harry was feeling remarkably in charity with the world as they arrived at his office.

And then Collins shouted, “Mail delivery!”, and a whole new flood of envelopes flew into Harry’s office.

He actually felt his blood pressure spike.

“You know what you need, Potter?” Draco asked as he propped himself up against Harry’s office door.

Harry gritted his teeth. “A name change and a permanent relocation?”

“I was thinking of something a little less drastic.” Draco sounded seriously amused. “You need a date.”

Harry scoffed. “After what happened that last time?”

He'd been against the _Prophet_ ’s stupid paper-selling stunt to have a contest for a date with the Saviour of the Wizarding World, but the Minister said it would be good PR, and Harry had allowed himself to be reluctantly persuaded. 

There’d been one date, he’d politely hugged the star-struck woman, she’d turned it into a way-too-much-tongue kiss, and before Harry knew it, she was telling everyone that she was pregnant with his baby.

Everyone seemed to think they had the right to judge him and his actions—supposed or actual—and he’d headlined in the _Prophet_ for a record two hundred and twelve days straight. He’d actually had to have a paternity test to prove that the baby wasn’t his, and the woman had finally had to leave the country to get away from the backlash. As upset as Harry was about the whole thing, he’d had to guard his tongue and keep his temper for fear that someone would get hurt in the aftermath.

Draco made a face. “You tried someone who wasn't involved in it all?”

“Scared them off or they thought it was their ticket to celebrity,” Harry said dismissively.

“A Muggle?”

Harry shook his head. “I won't lie to someone for the rest of my life. Honestly, I'm not capable of keeping up the pretence long enough.”

“Anonymous hook ups?”

Harry wondered why he was telling Draco all this. “More trouble than they’re worth, these days.”

He didn’t want to just have sex, he wanted a relationship. He wanted the whole stupid package, someone who remembered his name and how he liked his toast. Someone he could talk to about his day _and_ someone he could have sex with. Was that so much to ask?

Draco was still considering Harry’s options. “Okay, so you need someone who wouldn’t take advantage of you but would be available longer term until the _Prophet_ leaves you alone.”

“I'm not dating Hermione or one of the Weasleys,” Harry said flatly.

Draco kind of grimaced. “There are other people in the world, Potter.”

“Not who I’d trust, not with something like this. Even if they were willing…” Harry shook his head vehemently. “I mean, just think of what would happen when we broke up. I wouldn't wish that on anyone.”

Draco made a hum of sound. “So you need someone who wouldn't take advantage of you, who knows how to weather headlines and political scheming, and who can handle the media backlash, with a bonus if they’re good at spinning stories.”

Harry eyed Draco warily. “Got someone in mind, Malfoy?”

Draco’s lips tipped up. “You know I do, Potter. Going to try to tell me you're not interested in blokes along with the ladies?”

There would be no point, as the _Prophet_ had taken care of outing him and ruining yet another potential relationship.

“What do you say, Potter?” Draco asked smoothly. “You know I don't like to lose.”

Odd images flitted through Harry’s head: Draco slashed and bleeding in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, the Fiend Fyre, the “Dementors” at the Quidditch match. And those tortured eyes at Malfoy Manor, when Draco had refused to confirm that they had captured Harry.

Maybe a bit of manipulative Slytherin was exactly what he needed in this situation.

“What's in it for you?” Harry wanted to know.

Draco scoffed. “Please, Potter. Either I'm good enough for the Saviour of the Wizarding World or smart enough and powerful enough to snow him. I win either way.”

Harry couldn't help but laugh, but he cautioned, “You do remember the year the _Prophet_ thought Hermione broke my heart?”

“Potter, I was put on trial for being a Death Eater. I can take it.”

Draco looked a trifle impatient now, so while Harry kind of thought that Draco had been put on trial until it was proved that he was sufficiently on Harry’s side to be exonerated, he didn't want to start arguing semantics with a Slytherin.

Instead, Harry held out his hand. “You've got yourself a deal, Malfoy.”

Draco’s eyes widened faintly, revealing that he hadn't been quite as confident as he’d made out, but there was nothing but satisfaction in his smile as he reached out and clasped Harry’s hand.

“We can strategise after work.”

“Wha—?” Harry started to ask, but Draco was already gone.

* * *

Dating Draco Malfoy was like nothing Harry had ever experienced before. Harry wasn't exactly a planner. Oh, he did what he needed to do on the job, and he didn't starve or anything, but he was more likely to decide spur-of-the-moment to have a takeaway than to plan his meals for the week. He left the major planning to his supervisor, to Hermione, to those who cared about that sort of thing more than he did. He just … got things done that needed to be done.

It had never occurred to him that maybe what he needed in his personal life was a planner. But Draco approached their “relationship” like it was a political campaign, organising their activities, deciding where they'd be caught for a clandestine photo leading up to the big reveal, giving the _Prophet_ plenty of hints and a nice build to the big catch—but all planned on their end, down to what they were wearing at the time.

(He'd looked kind of despairing when Harry had wanted to know why it mattered.)

As a result, Harry felt a lot less hounded than usual, and while he wouldn't want to be quite this scheduled forever, it was kind of nice to leave all the details up to someone else and to know what he could expect from the press. Draco certainly had a good feel for how they’d react.

Honestly, it didn't actually change Harry’s personal life much, apart from seeing a bit more of Draco, but then, they were mostly posing rather than actually _living_.

And then, as per Draco’s timeline, they were indiscreet enough to actually be caught on camera on a Friday evening in what was a definitively embracing kiss. (While not much more than a slightly prolonged peck, there was no calling it platonic.) They Apparated away together and then went their separate ways, both to unplotted locations to give people plenty of opportunity to suppose them together.

But it turned out that even Draco hadn't anticipated the _strength_ of that initial reaction to positively confirmed news that Harry Potter and Draco Malfoy were an item. Harry arrived at work on Monday morning to complete and utter screaming chaos. Literal screaming, because there was clearly multiple howlers in operation. Harry pushed his way through all the gathered Ministry employees, his temper ratcheting up step by step as he got close enough to hear snatches of the actual phrases being howled through the office, slurs cast on everything about Draco, from his ancestry to his sexual proclivities and even the behaviour of his mother.

By the time Harry had shoved all the way to Draco’s door, he was nothing short of enraged. Sight of the mountain of messages and ominous piles of red in front of a pink-eared Draco who was clearly trying to look unaffected sent Harry right over the edge.

At the top of his voice, Harry roared, “Quiet!”

Wind whipped round the room, scooping up all the howlers and depositing little piles of ash at Harry’s feet. The silence was deafening.

Teeth clenched, Harry said carefully, “Anyone who is not Draco Malfoy, out of this room. Now.”

In a remarkably short period of time, Harry and Draco were alone, and Harry waved up a silencing charm.

Draco still didn’t say anything.

A little worried, Harry ventured to say, “Sorry about that. I meant to make sure I got to work extra early this morning, but I slept in.”

Draco blinked, then gestured at the pile of ash. “Why didn't you do that on Valentine's Day?”

Harry shrugged, relieved that Draco wasn't yelling at him. “I didn't actually know that I could.”

Draco snorted. “So much for a spell that no one can circumvent.”

“Oh, come on,” Harry scoffed. “I survived the Killing Curse. What's a howler or two?”

“Or two _hundred_ ,” Draco said sourly. “Seriously, though. You looked like you were ready to tear your hair out before. What brought the incineration on?”

Harry realised that Draco really didn't get it.

“Valentine’s drives me bonkers, but it’s a … personal irritant. This is you being negatively affected because of your proximity to me.” Harry’s tone flattened. “That's not on.”

Draco seemed to consider him for an extra long moment, and then he snorted. “Gryffindor.”

Harry grinned at him. “Well, yeah.”

* * *

They stepped up the public interactions and tasteful displays of affection after that. Harry had to threaten to resign three times before the petitions to check him over for signs of Dark spells and curses finally lost traction. Draco remained the expert at planning and executing their public life, but he left Harry to all the “temper tantrums” as he kept calling them. It worked surprisingly well.

Draco was unexpectedly easy to be around. When he wasn't trying to make Harry's life a misery, he had an enjoyable sense of humour. They might not always have been on the same side, but it was a relief to be spending time with someone who understood the pressures of the war and the dark moments, not just the light times. Plus, Harry picked up a few interesting tidbits. Malfoy hauteur or no Malfoy hauteur, Draco was a hand-holder, which always made Harry want to grin like an idiot. Classier clothes sneaked their way into Harry’s wardrobe, and Muggle vernacular sneaked its way into Draco’s vocabulary. They had surprisingly similar taste in food and vastly different taste in literature. Draco was unexpectedly patient with children but hated to be late. His hair was even softer and silkier than it looked. Also: Draco was ticklish, and the sound of him giggling uncontrollably was one of the best sounds Harry had ever heard.

Harry should have figured it out way sooner, of course, but it wasn't until he asked Draco to go with him to Godric's Hollow for Halloween that he realised that they had been in a fake relationship for the better part of a year, and Harry had stopped thinking of it as pretend months ago. Honestly, he wasn’t actually sure that he had ever treated it like a pretend relationship, but even he recognized that you didn’t invite a fake boyfriend to your parents’ grave on the anniversary of their death.

Draco accompanied him to the grave marker in the cemetery without a word, just standing close and making Harry feel better merely by his presence—which was itself a problem. Harry drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly.

“I’m older than they were when they died,” he said quietly. “I think of that every year now. All this life ahead of me, when theirs got cut off.”

Draco slipped an arm around Harry’s waist and snugged them together, so that Harry could lean back against Draco’s taller form.

Gently, Draco said, “They gave their lives fighting for something they believed in, fighting for you. They’d be so happy to see you here.”

Harry remembered that walk through the forest. He knew Draco was right, but part of him just wanted an impossible magical fix. But maybe they could help him now even though they were out of reach of conventional discussions.

“I could really use their advice right now.”

“What about?” Draco asked promptly. “Slytherins in general and Malfoys in particular _excel_ at giving advice.”

Harry felt his lips tip up despite his concern about what was about to happen. “I’m not sure how to put an end to a pretend relationship.”

Draco’s arms went rigid around Harry but his voice was carefully measured when he said a moment later, “I think you will find, Potter, that a simple conversation will resolve that.”

Harry wondered if Draco had realised yet that the “Potter” was a dead giveaway of his emotions, and he felt suddenly buoyed.

“You’re probably right,” Harry agreed smoothly. “But this situation is particularly delicate since I’d like to have a real relationship instead.”

Harry was spun abruptly around so that he faced Draco. For a long instant, those flashing grey eyes bored into his, and then Draco swooped in and kissed Harry soundly. Harry twined his arms around Draco’s neck and returned the embrace enthusiastically.

When they drew back to breathe, Draco’s eyes were lit up like stars, and Harry couldn’t help but beam at him. Draco returned the smile. Harry offered a silent thanks to his parents.

“Thank you for leaping, foolish Gryffindor,” Draco murmured. “I could never quite be sure.”

“Thank you for catching me,” Harry responded.

They fell into step together, and Draco’s hand twined naturally with Harry’s.

“Always,” Draco promised.

* * *

_finite incantatem_


End file.
